Dragonfire, A GOT Fanfiction
by TheUnicornGirl
Summary: [Targaryen OC, AU] Under King Rhaelon Targaryen, rumors of a rebellion forming in the Seven Kingdoms are spreading. For him, the peace of his Kingdom outweigh the need to keep the bloodline pure. His children, Prince Daemon and Princess Maegara, will prove that dragons do not bow for lesser men...including Lions and other animals.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

"Maegara?" After the thief had been dragged halfway across the Great Hall and he announced that the court was over, King Rhaelon turned to look at his daughter, who watched the scene from the balcony, standing next to her brother. For a split second, they resembled him and Alysanne when they were children—Daemon tall and clad in black and red, and Maegara fair and in a gown that was just as Targaryen as she was. "May I have a word?"

Despite the distance, he could see his children glance nervously at each other before Maegara walked from the balcony to the stairs and then to the base of where the Iron Throne stood. The small portion of merchants who came to pay court to him had left as soon as he sentenced the thief, but the lords, knights, and ladies from great and lesser houses remained, and smiled and mumbled to his daughter as she tried to pass through.

She bowed at bottom of the base. They had none of that formal courtesy when it was only the family who were present—they were connected by the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and were not afraid of each other— and Maegara was always the one who took advantage of that, but with a large amount of nobles in the room, Rhaelon was grateful that Maegara remembered her courtesies and bowed like a proper lady. He nodded at his guards as he rose from the Iron Throne, careful not to cringe as he felt a scratch on his breeches, and took her hand as they exited the hall, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room looking at the two.

"I saw you and Daemon when I sentenced the thief," He said reproachfully, but not unkindly. "What did you think about it that made Daemon have to calm you?"

Maegara's beautiful, Valyrian-featured face formed into a scowl. "The black cells for a year, father? I'd rather see his head on the spikes on the morrow."

"We behead those guilty of treason, as well as those who attempt to harm the royal family." Rhaelon pointed out. "Since when has thievery been as heinous as treason?"

"Since he tried to steal grandmother's crown," She replied fiercely. "He _did _harm us—when he tried to steal it."

"But the last time I checked, your grandmother is dead and has no need for a crown." He mused. "And the fact that we have no need to trade our ancestors' crowns for coin makes us very well-off that he did no harm."

"But it is _ours_." She stressed. They entered the courtyard and made their way to the dungeon. By the time they were through crossing the courtyard, Maegara was still going on about the technicality of the thievery being treason. "_Nobody_ steals from the dragon and lives to tell it—they burn for it."

She said the last line with such fiery conviction that Rhaelon had to stop to look at his daughter. At sixteen, Princess Maegara was a fair woman-child pleasing to look at. Her eyes were a light shade of purple that stood out on her pale face with lovely features and wavy white hair that had the faintest shade of gold. She had a slender woman's figure, and the seamstresses his wife had hired for their daughter's gowns made dresses that emphasized that she was no longer a girl but a woman. But there was something else, whether it was the wisdom and fiery, willful spirit in her that blended together to create his daughter or something else, he knew that was the only thing her septas did not teach her.

And for that, Rhaelon was proud of his daughter.

"True," He admitted as they stopped in front of the entrance to the dungeons. "However, a true king knows the difference between acting in the name of justice and acting in the name of his legacy—his family. Don't think that I didn't have half a mind to throw him into the bottom of the dungeon and left him to fend for himself, but that is not how we punish thievery, and what would it look like to have a king imprison one and behead another simply because the latter stole from the king's own household?"

"It wouldn't be fair." She relented, realizing where he stood.

"It wouldn't be fair." He repeated. He opened the door, and they could hear the faint sounds of screaming. "But a while ago, I gave an order in front of the whole court. And what do you know about Kings and orders, Marga?"

She smiled wickedly. "Kings can change their orders."

"Kings can change their orders." He smiled back. "Especially when no one is watching. Now come."

They descended the dungeon in silence, hearing nothing but the sound of their footsteps, the armor of the Kingsguard clanking on the stone, and the screams of the thief, which were getting louder as they descended. Finally, they reached a platform with an open door, where the screaming was at its loudest.

_Dragged here by the gold cloaks, you think he'd stop his wailing when they pulled him out of the Great Hall._Maegara rolled her eyes. The gold cloaks and gaolers bowed before the king and the princess, two of the gold cloaks pushing the thief to the ground.

"Second lesson, Marga." Rhaelon continued in a calm, almost cheery voice that did not fit the dim, dreary, black cells. "As a princess, you have the power to affect someone's life. Well, so do I, your brother, your mother, and everyone else—we all affect each other. But understand this—actions were done for a reason, but you must be ready to face its consequences."

The thief muttered a prayer to the Mother. The black cells were lit only by the few torches that hung on the wall, and Maegara watched as her father looked at the thief indifferently but with the fire exposing the fury in his eyes. "Take this…_creature_…for example. He tried to steal our ancestor's treasured crown. Had he been successful, he would have sold it and lived a comfortable life with his family for the rest of his days…but he wasn't, was he? Now, his action affected us—in a bad way. As you said, Marga—_Nobody steals from the dragon._"

The thief begged louder, and was struck in the face by one of the gold cloaks. Blood sputtered from his mouth, as well as a few teeth, but Maegara dared not cringe. She was a dragon, and dragons did not cringe at the pain of lesser men.

"As royalty," the King continued. "we are entitled to affect many people by the actions we make. What you can say can hurt—but when you plan to hurt others, it is important to ponder on what could happen next."

Rhaelon reached into a pocket on the robe he wore, pulling out his scepter. It was a golden stick nearly a foot long laden with rubies and onyxes, topped with a golden-red three-headed dragon. Everyone knew it was what King Rhaelon loved to hold whenever he sat on the Iron Throne to pass judgment. Maegara noted that her father did not hold the scepter when he passed judgment onto the thief, and gasped as he slowly placed it on her hand, closing her fingers around it.

"This man's family cannot wait a year for him to return and provide, and will most likely forget him." He said in a deadly quiet voice. "His fate lies on the action you will make—I'm sure Septa Feleya has taught you proper speech, and I am sure I have taught you well on justice and mercy."

The King stepped aside and motioned Maegara to stand in front of the thief, the scepter at hand. Closer to him than she was in the Great Hall, Maegara could see the thief clearer. He looked young—closer to her age than her father—but his brown hair boasted many graying strands. She looked down at the scepter, knowing very well that she could never get another chance like this—and none again if she didn't do it right. She knew her father was right—there was a difference between acting for justice and acting for the legacy. She also knew that the punishment for stealing was a mere month in the black cells, but if her father could bend the law as he would, so could she.

But she wasn't going to make it obvious to the people upstairs.

"You stand before me, accused with the charges of thievery." Her lady mother and septas told her that she had a sweet voice, and excelled in singing, speaking, and reading poetry in Valyrian tongue. Down in the black cells, the sweetness in her voice was mixed with the anger she felt for this man, and amplified by the empty halls of the black cells, she boomed like a demon bellowing from the Seven Hells. "The sentence of which is a month in the black cells."

She saw the man's face light up as she mentioned a month. Next to the thief, the guards scowled, glaring at the man. _They have no idea that this girl can be a dragon too._Her father's expression remained unmoved. _I'll show them._

"However," Their expressions were reversed once more. "Your actions are also an act of treason against the royal family."

His ray of hope had disappeared, just as she wanted it to. "My lady…I committed no—"

"It is considered treason to steal from the _royal_ family, the sentence of which is death." She regretted raising her voice, as the halls made it louder than she would have liked and it came out a bit garbled, but made no change in her stony emotion and kept her voice steady. "You are now accused of _both_thievery and treason."

The man was sobbing now. The guards and her father looked impressed. "In the name of my father, His Grace Rhaelon of House Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, I, Maegara of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, do hereby sentence you…to both." When he looked at her with a confused face, she fought a smile and continued. "You are hereby sentenced to stay one month in the deepest level of the dungeons. After thirty days, assuming you survive and if you can find your way to the guards waiting by the door, you are free."

The man looked horrified, wishing he had his first sentence that her father lazily gave back in the Great Hall. She wanted very much for him to die, but decided he lead himself to his death the same way he lead himself to the room where her grandmother's crown was kept. But that did not mean she could toy with him. "But of course, my guards are very busy men." She continued. "If you do not find the door by thirty days—assuming you _survive_ thirty days—and make it after thirty-_one _days or later, don't expect anyone to keep the door opened."

No man who was sentenced to the lowest level ever saw sunlight again, and she wondered how the man planned to count his days when he would never see it again. She turned to the gold cloak next to him. "You understand what that means, I presume?"

"I understand, my lady." He nodded, smirking.

"Good, now go. Ask the gaoler for assistance as well." She allowed. "I also assume that you know where I want him? Blindfold him while going there."

"Yes, my lady." The other guard replied. They grabbed the thief, pulling him out the door and down the stairs, but she called the last gaoler and gold cloak before they left, and ordered them to carry the man so he may not remember the directions by his feet, and have the door blocked by stone on their way out.

They were out of the dungeons ten minutes later. Rhaelon ordered his Kingsguard away, and they went back to their tower, leaving him to walk back to the Keep with Maegara. As soon as they were alone, he placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Always know that the consequences of your actions will affect someone else." He repeated, but in a lighter voice. "I'm pleased with what you've done—he won't survive a month there, if the stories are true."

"He won't—most likely a fortnight if he enjoys dining on rats and piss." Maegara said confidently as they made their way back up. They made their way back to the Keep, talking about trivial matters as though they never went through what just happened. As soon as they reached the entrance, Rhaelon turned to her.

"I suggest you do not mention this to your brother." He said. "It wouldn't be very…kingly of him, if he found out that his sister passed judgment on the man."

"Yes father," She said dutifully. "I will be in my chambers."

Maegara nodded and turned, heading to the left wing. Rhaelon peeked from around the corner to watch his daughter walk away. Instead of reaching the end of the hallway and turning right, she stopped to look and, when she did not see him, turned left on another corridor. Rhaelon knew exactly where she was going, and was still not sure if he should be happy or angry and put a stop to it. But she reminded her so much of Alysanne when they were younger and he couldn't be angry at her, and he turned to his chambers on the opposite wing.

Rhaelon sighed, thinking of Maegara as he walked. His worries would be less and he could sleep a lot easier had Maegara been born with a cock. Underneath the silk gowns and fine jewelry, his daughter was the calculating, manipulative, but well-mannered and compassionate leader Westeros needed if the Targaryens were to rule. But the seven chose to spit in his face by giving him the child who could have been the perfect ruler—and then made the child a woman who could never sit on the Iron Throne. Daemon was brave and just, but his solution to every problem would always be a sword. He would be a good king after his father, but Maegara would have been great if she were a male.

There was always the thought of marrying them. _King Daemon and Queen Maegara, _Rhaelon liked to muse. But with parts of the Westerlands still in rebellion, the purity of the future dragons was no longer a priority. Had they had peace, he would have married them years ago, and Maegara would be the one to balance out her brother._ King Daemon and Queen Maegara__._

He hoped Maegara understood the second lesson was not just for the prisoner, because what he was planning would affect her very much.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

He groaned loudly as he released himself, spilling his seed on her belly, careful not to let it go to her womanhood. When he was done, he fell on top of Maegara, panting heavily as he inhaled the scent of her hair.

"Were you even listening to me?" She pouted as he began fondling her breasts and kissing her neck.

"Always." He muttered, kissing her on the lips. It had been days since they were together, and it was only because he was too nervous about telling her of their father's plans that he had not been aroused to allow her into his chambers. "And father let you carry out your sentence? Just like that?"

"You'll never hear from that thief again." She said happily. Daemon couldn't really care less about the thief—he didn't get away with it, so why bother?—but it made him happy to see Maegara in such a happy mood.

"I'd rather hear you, to be truthful." He whispered playfully on her ear as he positioned himself inside her when he grew hard again. "Screaming, moaning—my name, preferably."

Maegara playfully punched him, giggling, and he sighed as he rolled over so Maegara could mount him like a destrier. When they were finished, Maegara slumped down on him, and he rolled her over so that they were cuddling on his bed. With Daemon, Maegara had learned many new tricks with her sex that she could never think of on her own, and were constantly trying new things, but this—where they lay in each others' arms, listening to each others' hearts thump in exhaustion—it has always been done even during their first night together. Daemon kept no guards, and his chambers were practically isolated with its thick walls, so when there was a day when they were not needed, they were usually there.

Daemon traced a sweaty hand on his sister's face, flicking away a damp strand of hair sticking to it. "I love you, Marga."

"Of course you do." She smiled, and he chuckled at his sister's confidence.

"I do." He kissed her lovingly. "And I'm proud of what you did in the dungeons."

"…but you just don't care." She finished dryly, sitting up from bed.

"But I just don't care about what the fuck happen to some man who would die either way." He agreed, sitting up and wrapping his arms around her, breathing her musky scent. He kissed her on the neck, muttering. "When I am King and you become my Queen, you can punish as many prisoners as you please."

Their lips met, and the room was quiet except for the moist sounds of their lips meeting. Finally, Maegara pulled back. "It's not just about executions, Daemon."

"I know it's not." Daemon replied. "I'll handle the throne-sitting, and you'll handle…well, everything else."

Maegara laughed at his jape, falling back to the bed. Daemon quickly rolled on top of her and planted a kiss on her lips. "And most importantly, with you and I running the Seven Kingdoms…no one will ever…_ever_…think of rebelling."

"You think so?" She kissed him back.

"Not even a rumor, Marga."

They played until the sun was beginning to cool, and Maegara dressed to leave for her chambers, where Septa Feleya would be waiting for her to bathe before supper with the King and Queen. As he helped her button the back of her dress, he felt that there was no better place and time to tell her the truth. "Marga…"

She spun around immediately. "I know that voice…what's wrong?"

"You haven't heard all the rumors…" He scratched his head, wondering if that was the best way to begin. "…about all the regions, I mean."

"About the Westerlands?" She asked. "I know what those Lions—"

"Not the Lions," He stopped her. "The Wolves—or at least, what the Wolves are trying to stop."

Maegara sighed in frustration. "Are there rebels in the north too?"

"Rebels, no." He grimaced. "Wildling armies…"

At once, Maegara understood. "You're not going there."

"I am—father commanded." He sighed. "Me, and a few thousands of our armies to the Wall."

"The Wall?" She asked, shocked.

"If the Lannisters are planning something, we can't afford to lose our allies." He tried explaining. "The Starks are our allies—and they loathe the Lannisters ever since Robert's Rebellion, but what good will they be if they're too busy fending off the wildlings?"

For once, Maegara was scared for her brother. They were dragons, and dragonfire was matched with the cold of the Wall, or so they were told. "What's happening?"

"The wildlings are heading south of the wall again," He answered. "Rumors of giants, and men by the hundred thousands. Robert Stark has called his bannermen and men of his own house, and father wants to show our support by sending me there with men of my own."

"The north is the biggest of all the regions." Maegara agreed. "That would be a good plan…if it didn't involve you."

He kissed her on the forehead. "If it didn't involve me, there'd be no point in sending men at all."

_Father was right, _Maegara thought. _I cannot think when my emotions are involved. _"For how long?"

Daemon took her in his arms, trying to block out the idea that it could be one of the last times he'd get to do that. "A month."

"I miss you already." Maegara said weakly, and he pulled her closer.

"Only a month, sweet sister." He kissed her, drying away the tears welling on her eyes. "And then I promise you, I will return and I will never leave you ever again. We will always be together—especially when you become my queen."

"Promise?" She smiled for him.

"Promise."


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

"The servant boy—Robin, I'm told—has disappeared as His Grace has commanded." Serys giggled an effeminate laugh. "The last I heard, he got lost in the lowest levels of the dungeon."

Rhaelon remembered the thief Maegara left there. _It would be a sight to see if they find each other. _

"That's the fourth one this year." Queen Alysanne complained. "I don't see why we must needs execute those who catch my children in bed together—Targaryens bedding their own sisters isn't exactly a secret anymore."

"No, my queen, it is not." Rhaelon answered gently when no one would answer. "However, Marga's maidenhead is at stake if we need to marry her off."

"You can see that Daemon loves her!" She pressed on. "Why are you so insistent with using your children for marriage alliances?"

"Do you see any other way?" He said dismissively. Rhaelon did not like arguing with his wife in public, let alone the Small Council. "This is the only way."

Alysanne huffed in defeat. She wanted nothing more than Rhaelon to let their children find what they did, and now he was turning them into coins to be traded. _For what? _She thought. _For the love of Lions? Their honor means little._

Leon Martell, the Master of Coin, coughed to break the silence. "A raven came in this morning from the Reach…another offer of betrothal…"

Rhaelon sighed. _Not another one._ "Who is it for and _what _is it?" Ever since Maegara had turned sixteen a fortnight past, the letters of marriage offerings now extended to her, and not just her brother. And like his, there were two types of proposals.

"For your son, Your Grace, to the Lady Selena Tyrell." Leon replied, pulling a fancy yellow parchment and scanning the letter once more. "And as for the type, Your Grace, I couldn't be too sure—at one point, they claim of loyalty to the crown, but then mention how bountiful the harvests are in Highgarden and, as I read, _would hate to deprive King's Landing of our bountiful gifts should war or any mishap happens_."

_Threats and allies, _Rhaelon sighed. _The Tyrells are both, as well as all the other letters. _

"What shall we do, Your Graces?" Grand Maester Robert queried.

For a while, Rhaelon did not speak. Alysanne asked to see other marriage proposals, her face scowling as she finished a few of the many letters on the table. Alysanne had no idea how much Rhaelon wanted to make his children happy. When they were children, Alysanne's lady mother and lord father died of grayscale, leaving her in the care of Rhaelon's own family. They grew up together during a time of peace, and they had learned to love each other. Rhaelon's father died a few months after his eighteenth nameday, and as king, it was Rhaelon who decided for himself that he married his only love, Alysanne, and their marriage was blessed with two beautiful dragons of their own.

The first time he had heard of Daemon and Maegara being together, it had been one of Alysanne's handmaidens when Daemon was sixteen and Maegara fourteen. Alysanne was tending to the Martell guests, and sent her handmaiden to find Daemon and have him ready to go riding with Leon's son Edwin. The handmaiden had returned with news of seeing Daemon in his chambers, mounting his sister. They were too busy fucking that they did not notice the handmaiden slip away. Rhaelon could remember the tantrum Alysanne had given when she protested against getting rid of the handmaiden, who was the fastest in getting his queen dressed, but nonetheless agreed to do it for the sake of Maegara keeping the pretense of her maidenhead.

Rhaelon wanted them to be together, truly. He wanted Daemon to love his bedmate on is wedding night the same way he did on his. There were instances in the family when brother did not wish to marry to sisters or cousins, and kept the line pure only because of duty and not love. His ancestor Aerys and Rhaella, for instance—it was no secret that they loathe each other, and their three children were a result of Aerys forcing his right on her. But without peace, the entire family could go extinct as it almost once did. With it, it would go on, but it would be mixed with the lesser bloods of Lions and Roses.

And then Rhaelon decided. "We will put off Daemon's hand for a while." He declared. "Certainly a year or two will not make the heir of the Seven Kingdoms less desirable. What do you think, Alysanne?"

She sighed. "To be truthful, I like it not. But I trust your judgment, my love—although I wish you would have more faith in the idea of Daemon and Maegara ending those rumors together."

_Do I? _"I would, but that is not a risk we can afford now." He patted Alysanne's hand before he turned to the rest of the Small Council. "I do not need to look at the letters. I know who will get my daughter's hand…and _when_."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: The AU takes place in a universe where Daenerys Targaryen returns to Westeros, conquers the Seven Kingdoms with her nephew Aegon, sparing all the Houses that had a hand at Robert's Rebellion but giving honors to the families that were against these houses (Stark, Martell, etc.). This takes place hundreds of years later. If you're reading this in the future (later than 2014, probably) and GRRM already finished the ASOIAF series, this may not be accurate anymore, but still, ****AU**** so huehuehue. **

CHAPTER 4

The Lannisters passed through the streets in a sea of crimson, and all Daemon and Maegara could see was a blotch of blood spreading through the streets. From the balcony of Maegara's chambers, the two watched as the Lannister made their way towards the Keep.

"Why do you think father's inviting them?" Maegara asked as they reached Aegon's Hill.

"Who cares?" Daemon muttered as he pressed himself closer to his sister. Maegara's chambers were in one of the higher places in Maegor's Holdfast, so no one could see the two in their smallclothes as they watched on. But with one more night before Daemon would head for the wall, they were not wary of anyone else other than each other. "For all we know, father's going to let them start re-decorating the entire Keep in crimson and gold."

She squeezed his arm, pushing him away. "Don't start that again." Ever since they heard a fortnight ago that their father was inviting the Lannisters, the House that was involved with those rumors of a rebellion, Daemon had looked down on their father and his decisions since then. He had even threatened not to leave for the Wall, but he knew that the alliance with the Starks was too great to back out of, and his threats were in vain.

"Sorry," He wrapped his arms around her again as they watched the Lannisters in sullen silence. They watched from above as their father and mother welcomed Tharin Lannister and his family, the blood spilling all the way to the entrance of Maegor's Holdfast.

"We should probably get ready." She said quietly as the Lannisters started to enter.

"…and face the enemy." Daemon joked without any humor in his voice.

"Prince Daemon and Princess Maegara of House Targaryen," The herald called as they entered the gardens. Maegara knew better than to dress in red and black in the party of another house, and had chosen to wear a lilac gown that bordered on modesty and revealing, but Daemon stubbornly wore a red and black doublet. Maegara was relieved that the black was not onyx black, and could easily be mistaken for dark grey, while the red looked more crimson of the lion than the red of the dragon, hoping the Lannisters would not take slight.

The gardens were streamed in black, red, gold, and crimson in honor of the Lannisters' arrival. They walked past crowds of noble lords and ladies, knights and performers, all the way to the dais erected at the center, where their royal mother and father were waiting with their own honored guests.

"Ah, and here comes my children now." King Rhaelon said proudly as they approached the front of the table.

"Daemon, Marga," Tharin said as he stood up from his chair, his voice a slimy voice that immediately irritated Maegara. _Does this fool even know me?_ "I haven't seen you both since you were babes. We—"

"We thank you and your family for inviting us as guests, Prince Daemon…Princess Maegara." The two turned to see the man sitting on Tharin's right, and when he noticed their confused looks, he stood up as well. "Tybalt Lannister."

_He looks like a lion, _Maegara thought. She knew who he was, but she had never met any Lannister her whole life and did not really believe the stories of how beautiful and golden all the Lannisters were. Tybalt Lannister's golden hair was long and shone in the sunlight, and would have been handsome in Maegara's eyes if he wasn't a Lannister and if she didn't have eyes only for her brother. Next to him, covered by the shadows of the trees could only be the younger lion, Jason, who was just as golden as his brother and father, but slouched and looked like a scared young mouse despite being only a year older than her.

Daemon nodded curtly before taking his seat next to their mother, but Maegara greeted the guests before taking her seat. "Keep it together, Daemon." She muttered as the servants served the first dish, a stew of beef, potatoes, and tomatoes. Daemon did not reply, but sighed heavily as he placed his hand on hers under the table, giving it a light squeeze.

They ate in silence, occasionally responding to questions that were given to them. Maegara was relieved that her brother had lightened up and had answered in polite tones, but only so. Afterwards, King Rhaelon declared that he, Queen Alysanne, Rhaelon's Hand Lord Kenton Baelish, and Lord Tharin would adjourn to his study in the Red Keep, where they would discuss a few matters, ordering Daemon and Maegara to attend to his sons.

Daemon was quick to suggest they go to the sparring yard, and Tybalt was quick to accept that he nearly jumped out of his seat. Tybalt walked over to Maegara and offered to escort her there. Maegara noticed Daemon's lips pursed slightly, but relented as he spoke with Jason on the way to the yard.

"Your brother…he is very good with the sword." Jason said quietly to Maegara as they watched their older brothers spar at each other on the yard. The gods have blessed them with a sunny day, and both of them had retreated to the shaded dais nearby to watch them.

"Or maybe _your _brother is just very bad at it." It was an offensive jape, Maegara knew, but Jason was such a frightened little boy that she felt comfortable to speak her mind around him. Still, that was as far as she would go—he _was _still a Lannister, after all. "My apologies if I've given offense." She added lazily.

"Oh no, my lady." He said respectfully. "Our master-at-arms says he requires a lot of training still."

"And you?"

"More so." He replied sheepishly.

The two younger siblings watched as Daemon defeated Tybalt by lightly kicking Tybalt's unbalanced stance, which even Maegara saw as a weak spot. Tybalt fell for what was the hundredth time, and showered Daemon with compliments in his prowess for the thousandth time, and Daemon just stood there, looking bored as he tried to entertain his guest. While Tybalt was being tended to by the master-at-arms for training, Daemon turned to his sister and gave the faintest of smiles, which she returned.

"Is your brother always this quick to shower his opponent with flattery when he loses?" She poked.

"Only to princes, my lady." Jason replied dryly. Maegara graced him with a smile. He was a Lannister, but he was still a cub more than a lion.

"Why do you that?" She asked bluntly but in a polite manner. "You always seem so scared—not what I'd expect from a lion of Lannister."

Jason looked at her sadly as though he had disappointed her. "Forgive me, my lady. It is just…it is my first time to meet other nobles other than my father's bannermen, let alone the royal family."

"Really?" She asked, surprised. "You've never left Casterly Rock?"

"I have," He said quickly. "But not the Westerlands, I'm afraid. My lord father has Tybalt for that."

She sighed, almost wanting to feel sorry for him. Unlike Lord Tharin, her father would bring both her and Daemon even during hunts that were not befitting of a noble lady. She smiled at him. "Then I welcome you to the outside of the Westerlands, then."

"Thank you, my lady." He smiled back, looking more his age than a fearful child when he did so. "It's wonderful to be out."

They watched the spar for half an hour until Daemon offered to show the library he mentioned to Jason earlier. After they left the yard, they went back to Maegor's Holdfast and lead their guests to the library, where Daemon disappeared with Jason to find a rare book written by some old septon, leaving Maegara by the entrance with Tybalt.

"You look _absolutely _ravishing, Princess." Tybalt gave her a cocky smile. "As befitting a beautiful princess, of course."

_How original. _"And you as well, Tybalt." She was forced to grace him a smile. "You were very gallant in the yard."

"Yes, well, our master-at-arms is not as nearly as skilled as yours." He said pompously. "Otherwise I'd have undone your brother."

_If those swords weren't blunt, you'd be dead, _she thought proudly.

"But your brother is nonetheless a skilled swordsman." He added, almost dismissively. "I'd hate to be his foe on the battleground."

_You will if those rumors are true. _She could see the lion in him that Jason did not have, and she did not like it one bit. She lead him inside, taking a whiff of the scent of old books that she liked. "Do you like reading, Tybalt?"

He looked around the bookshelves with disinterest, and Maegara fought the urge to show her annoyance. "I can read," He finally said. "But I'm oft so busy with learning how to use my sword that I don't have nearly as much time to read as my brother."

_What a waste of time then. _"You should try it some time," She said sweetly. "Septa Feleya always told me that books are like treasure chests that are bursting with new knowledge."

She turned to see that he wasn't even listening, and was pulling an old crimson book from the shelves. She rolled her eyes as he attempted to heave the book that was tightly pinned between two other books, and she had to show him with a calm face how to do it with the least bit of effort from her.

"_The Great House of Lannister and Its Members,_" Tybalt read as they made their way to one of the reading tables. They opened the dusty book to find the names and stories of each of the Lannisters dating all the way to Lann the Clever.

Because the book was so big, Tybalt stood up from his seat and stood behind a sitting Maegara and put his large arms on both her side so that they were both in front of the book. But Maegara could feel his breath behind her neck, one of his arms brushing lightly near her breast. _I'll have your fucking head for this, _she fumed, but smiled and acted oblivious to his advances and read on about the incestuous Queen Cersei and her twin brother Ser Jamie the Kingslayer, who thought it was acceptable to practice incest just because the Targaryens did.

"I heard from Grand Maester that she was supposed to be married to Rhaegar, the Last Dragon." She quipped, hoping to break the awkward silence, but she could feel his pressing against her. "Umm, what are you doing?"

"Hmm?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around her and inhaled deeply. "Did you say something?"

_You aren't even listening to me, you bastard. _Ever since the thief masqueraded as a servant and walked through their halls undetected until he left the door to the Crown Room opened and a guard passed, Maegara knew even the halls weren't safe, and she had taken to hiding a small dagger in her shoes. She could just reach the tip of it and stab him away…but let go of it quickly. _I'm not going to start a war by stabbing him._

"You forget yourself, Tybalt." She said in an icily polite voice. "You've probably had too much wine."

"Mmm, the wine, yes…" He said carelessly as he let her go and straightened himself up. Maegara did not want to spend another minute with him, and was lucky to see Daemon and Jason walking back with a book.

"Right," Daemon said as he returned, a light smile on his face. "I think we should all get ready for the evening feast now."

"I'LL KILL HIM, MARGA!" Daemon roared, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, but Maegara was quick to put her hand on his.

"Leave him, Daemon." She said quickly. "He's not worth it."

"They threaten us with rumors, and then think they can do as they please here." He said angrily. "The dragon does not bow before lesser men—including lions."

Maegara knew it was a mistake telling him. They were dressed in Targaryen black and red, as the feast honored both the Lannisters' arrival, as well as Daemon's departure for the Wall on the morrow. She hugged him to calm him down. "I'm fine, and one day, we will crush the Lannisters when need be—but his advances are not a reason to start a feud, especially not now."

She felt Daemon sigh, finally calming down as he let go of his sword and wrapped his arms around her. "When we become king and queen, no one will ever touch you."

"I know." She said quietly.

"And no one will ever even think of taking advantage of a dragon." He continued, his voice hard. "I'll burn them if they do."

She let go of him and looked straight into his dark purple eyes. "_We'll _burn them." She corrected.

They had the feast in the Great Hall. Maegara, Daemon, Tybalt, Jason, and the Hand's daughter Sansarya sat below the dais where their parents sat. Daemon sat between her and Jason, while the Lady Sansarya sat on her left. There was polite conversation, and Sansarya was kind enough to direct Tybalt's attention to herself.

After the feast, Maegara snuck away into Daemon's chambers and they spent the night together, knowing very well it would be their last time together before a long amount of time…and possibly their last night, if the rumors about the wildlings were true.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Daemon woke up at dawn, the chill of the night still upon them. He'd rather woken up to a hot night, for he knew it will be a while before he would ever feel the hot sun. But he felt warm on the bed, Maegara's body pressed against him. He was careful not to move and wake her up, savoring the last moment with her before he would have to leave.

He wished that time would just freeze, because this was what he wanted. He wanted to wake up next to Maegara, with no care in the world. But he knew time moved, and he knew that he wasn't allowed to even touch his sister as that vile lion did, and when he left the room, he had the Seven Kingdoms resting on his shoulders. He would be king, and whether or not Maegara would be queen—_and she will, _Daemon thought—his wants were not of the most importance, even if he wanted it to be.

Daemon made a mental note: if he survived the cold, and assuming the rumors of the wildlings were not as bad as they seemed, he would demand that Maegara be his queen. He refused to defile the line because his father was a coward, and he knew just how powerful his reign would be, with his bravery and Maegara's wits.

"I miss you already." Maegara kissed him, standing on her toes just to reach him.

"I'd stay if I could." He whispered as he kissed her back. He didn't know what made that moment exciting: the fact that he was probably heading to his own death willingly, or that they were separated from prying eyes by a stone wall, and could be seen if one person by the city gates chose to look inside one of the alleys. "It's only for two months—I'll be back."

"Not if the rumors are true." She said quietly.

Daemon brushed a hand on her pale cheek. "You underestimate me, Marga. No bastard wildling will unhorse me—do you think they will?"

She smiled at him, tears starting to well in her eyes. "Of course not."

He smiled bravely for her. "See? In a week or two, father will be done with business with the Lannisters, and then we'll be together later on."

"And then what?" She pressed on, pressing her body closer to his. "That leaves more than a fortnight without you."

"And then I return…and then we wed." He moved closer so their faces were barely an inch from each other. "And then you and I rule the Seven Kingdoms, and we will never have to be apart ever again."

They heard the cheers, and knew their father had arrived to see him off. "Promise?"

He kissed her with finality. "Promise."

Daemon struggled to get the necklace off his neck from under his armor, but managed to take it off and put it around Maegara. It was a simple chain with a red ruby given to him on his eighteenth name day. "Something for you to remember me."

Maegara's lips trembled, but she smiled bravely, not wanting to break down. She pulled out her favor, and Daemon placed it in his breeches. "And for you."

"I'll wear it when I go to battle." He promised. "But hopefully it does not come to that."

His father gave a moving speech, none of it Daemon could remember. He had known he was leaving for the Wall a month ago, but only when he was at the city gate did he realize the brevity of what that meant. It was too late to back down now—the commons were looking at their prince, their future king, and he did not want to look like a coward.

And then they were off, Daemon at the head. He turned back, the last thing he saw was Maegara, her red eyes contrasting to her pale skin, scowling as Tybalt stood next to her, saying something she couldn't hear.

He didn't know whether to laugh at Maegara's misfortune or his.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Am currently busy with writing short stories for my organization's upcoming publication and it took a while to find time to write this chapter. Made it shorter so I could catch up on the next chapter ASAP. **

CHAPTER 6

The North was as cold as he expected the Wall to be. The actual Wall was an eighth Hell itself, the cold stinging Daemon's muscled body underneath his thick cloak. His black armor had been a pain to wear ever since they entered the North, absorbing the cold and making it worse, and he opted to wear his furs until he was actually faced in combat. And as they trudged further to the North, Daemon was hoping the battle with the wildlings was likely, because he would loathe them even more for making him go there for naught.

"If I may ask, my lord," Robert Stark asked as they rode on, the Wall finally at sight after two days of riding from Winterfell. "How do you fare?"

"It's colder than I thought." Daemon allowed. He had to speak with a throaty voice to keep from shivering as he spoke. "Damn those wildling bastards."

"We shall deal with them as quick as possible." Robert promised. "and then we shall return to Winterfell."

"Not soon enough." Daemon replied dryly. He turned to look at Robert Stark; he was not as muscled as he was, and his furs were more worn, yet he could ride on as though he felt no chill. "How are you not freezing?"

Robert chuckled. "Us Starks run warm in the snow like the hot springs Winterfell was built on. When you live in the cold, my lord, it becomes nothing…until you get to the wall."

"I've never been to the north, let alone the Wall—gods help me." They laughed merrily.

As soon as they reached the wall, Daemon would not speak unless urgent for the cold was shivering. He saw fire from within Castle Black, and desperately wanted to rush inside. But he remembered his courtesies (Maegara would kill him if he ever forgot his courtesies) and traveled at the speed Stark went.

"You have your own quarters here, my lord." Stark said as they passed through the gate. "As well as fifty of your men. The rest of your men have the Queensgate and Oakenshield."

They spent the next hour settling down, dividing the men to the two other castles between Castle Black. Daemon was given the chambers next to Lord Commander Tarly's, and had a good view of the yard. He looked out the window, watching the castle packed with both Targaryen men and men of the Night's Watch. He heard the stories how, at one point, the Night's Watch served as an alternative punishment to those who were sentenced to death. But after the Night's Watch lived to make a song of saving Westeros from the Others, it had returned to its former glory and opened only to men who were determined to serve. Two hundred years ago, the yard would have been filled with rapers and thieves and poachers, and Daemon looked at the yard with awe, as it was home to men from both great and lesser houses, knights, and worthy commoners dedicated to serve.

His steward, a mouse of a boy named Marlon Payne, left the wine on top of the table and bowed out. As soon as he left and Daemon went to the table to pour himself a drink, the door opened once more. "G'day, m'lord." Daemon was surprised to hear a woman's voice, and turned to look at his guest.

She was pretty, Daemon would admit, but in a common way. He could tell that she was a bedwarmer by the flimsy dress that made no difference with smallclothes, and wondered if whores in the north were used to wearing clothes this thin despite the cold. Her brown hair fell below her shoulders, tangled in a way that looked like she just came out of bed. Her face was young, like a girl not even reaching her twentieth nameday, and was pleasing to look at.

She looked at him, as though waiting for an invitation, but when Daemon said nothing, she blushed shyly. "My name is Lilac, if it please you my lord."

_Lilac like the color of your dress. _Daemon mused, but smiled lightly, inviting her to come in. "And why are you here?"

"Lord Tarly has sent me here," She bowed and the shut the door behind her. "As a bedwarmer to my lord for his stay in the Wall."

Lilac walked to his bed, just across him. "You're not from the Wall, are you?" He joked dryly.

"I'm not a wildling." She said stupidly. "I'm from Mole's Town."

_A whore, then. _Daemon thought. _Probably fucked half the Night's Watch before she ended up here. _He knew Mole's Town's role with the other brothers.

Without another word, Lilac stripped her thin dress, revealing her body. There were healing bruises in some parts, but otherwise she was desirable to look at. Daemon felt himself stirring as she lay on his bed, her legs spreading for him invitingly. "Lord Tarly says you'd been travelling for days," She smiled warmly. "And you came to protect us from the wildlings."

Daemon felt himself shrugging his cloak off and unlacing his breeches. He didn't bother removing his doublet and positioned himself on top of Lilac. Wasting no time, he plunged deep inside her.

"Oh m'lord, you_ haven't _had a woman for a long time." She said as he began pumping without checking for her wetness. It had been almost a month since he saw Maegara, but he had been with her long enough to know that Lilac sounded so fake when she moaned; he wouldn't compliment her on the tightness of her either. "You're going to _love _this."

_Marga. _Daemon stopped abruptly as he remembered her. _Love. _He didn't love this nobody, he loved Maegara. Back in King's Landing, he knew Maegara wouldn't fuck a servant or sneak to Lord Baelish's brothel, and was eagerly waiting for his return. And it wasn't just about fucking her anymore, it was about making love…and he could not do it to this servant girl. He didn't need her.

He quickly pulled out and laced his breeches, pretending that never happened.

"Do I not please you, m'lord?" Lilac asked sadly.

"No, Lilac." He assured her quickly as he finished with his breeches. "But I just do not need your services, you may leave."

"Does m'lord prefer girls with maidenheads?" She asked almost frantically. Daemon could see the desperation in her eyes. "Because Mole's Town's girls don't got any maiden bedwarmers unless you like twelve year olds. I'm the youngest and I promise you m'lord I've only been with—"

"It's not that." Daemon cut her off gently. "I just…there's someone else."

"Oh," She said, relieved. "But m'lord, she's in King's Landing, and you'll be so cold…"

"I can brave the cold." He reassured her. "I cannot brave through laying with another while she waits in King's Landing."

She tried to look happy for him, but he could sense the panic in her. "What's wrong?"

"M'lord, Lord Tarly has paid for my services for a fortnight already." She said tearfully. "I cannot go back to Mole's Town or my uncle will beat me, and if I cannot service you…" She looked uneasily out the window, the sound of men laughing at the distance.

Daemon pursed his lips. He wanted nothing from her but he was not dumb to what whores faced when they did not perform. "You may stay here in my chambers, but I will not touch you."

Her eyes lit up. "Thank you, m'lord! You shall not regret it."

"Don't give me any reason to." He smiled kindly. "Now, put on your dress and go to Lord Tarly and give him my thanks."

Lilac mumbled a "Yes, m'lord" and threw her shift on. "You know, m'lord, it's very gallant of you…saving yourself for another."

"Have you ever been in love, Lilac?"

"No, m'lord. Uncle says not to fall in love with the customers." She smiled sadly. "But I admire you, m'lord. Especially with what you're doing, guarding the wall."

"It's only for at most a month," Daemon reassured her. "Until the wildling attack."

She shot him a confused look. "You're here because of the wildling rumors?"

"Rumors?" He asked, shocked.

Lilac nodded. "In Mole's Town, the people joke about those rumors ever since the War of the Others. If you're waiting for an attack, you could be waiting longer than a month, m'lord."


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Daemon had gotten very desperate to even talk to his sister that his dreams included simply sending her a raven. But on days dreams became nightmares, he dreamed of someone reading their letters. He knew it should not matter, that Maegara was his when he returned, but it was the chance of marrying one of their sons to King Rhaelon's maiden princess that kept several powerful families aligned with them.

"Any letters?" Daemon asked his steward hopefully. It had been three weeks since he had arrived in Castle Black, and with each day pass, he was getting more frustrated and weary staying there. He had lasted the first week training with the black brothers, but when he saw they were skilled, spent the next week training the recruits. But they were just as good, and now Daemon desperately prayed for either the wildlings to attack, or a letter from his father that allowed him to go home. He couldn't leave on his will and risk offending the northerners.

And worst of all, Daemon was freezing, missing the warmth of Maegara next to him. Lilac was there, but he could not bear touching her without thinking of Maegara alone in King's Landing. He began to ask Lilac to help him relieve his stress with her hands and mouth, and he'd close his eyes and pretend to be home. How he wished to be home. How he hated his decision to go here. _I'll kill the first northerner who tries to rebel even after all this._

He groaned as he released his seed, splattering it inside Lilac's mouth. It was a release, but it wasn't as good as what a woman could really give.

For the first time, he gave Lilac a good look. The sweat made her hair and clothes stick to her body, revealing her womanly parts to him. And suddenly, Daemon felt that stirring inside him even when he was spent, but this time he knew that he had to release it.

He took Lilac and turned her over, pinning her down with his legs. Ripping her dress, he grabbed a pillow and threw it on her head, covering her hair and face. If he didn't inhale her scent and if he muffled her mouth right, she almost posed as a less pale Maegara. Daemon smiled as he positioned himself over her, thrusting without another word. He had spent himself for the last week with Lilac's hands and mouth, but it could not be compared to fucking Maegara in the Wall.

That night, Lilac screamed. _Now that's a real scream, _Daemon thought proudly.

Another fortnight had passed, and Daemon had learned to remove the guilt. He had made himself feel better by keeping the pillow to cover Lilac's face, while reminding himself that Maegara would always forgive him.

_If she knew what I was going through, she'd understand. _Daemon would tell himself every time he forced himself in his bedwarmer. _She'd still love me, because I still love her. _

He moaned as he released himself into a writhing Lilac. Her Uncle had come to visit the girls he sold to collect for another fortnight, and promised Daemon that the girls were oft given moon tea to prevent bastards, and Daemon had allowed himself to release into Lilac's womanhood.

Daemon rolled over to sleep, as he always did, and was surprised when he felt her trail her hands down his back and around his waist. "Lilac…"

"M'lord," She said in a husky whisper in the dark. He commanded her not to try to talk when they were fucking, and began to feel the creeping guilt and hoped she would stop. "Is the woman you love Princess Marga?"

He sat upright to look at her. "What?"

"The woman you love," She repeated, a smirk appearing on her face. For a second, she resembled Serys whenever he was getting close to telling a secret. _A secret that could destroy Marga and the entire family. _"Is it your sister?"

"Wha—what—"

"But of course," She sat next to him in bed, checking her fingernails nonchalantly. "a Targaryen bedding his sister is nothing new, of course."

_She knew that much, _Daemon thought. _I need to make sure that's all she knows._

Unfortunately, Lilac was not through. "How did you know, Lilac?"

"Ya mumble in your sleep, Daemon." She giggled. _You insolent, little—_"At first, I din't understand until I realized you were saying 'Marga', and I figured it was the Princess."

_She knows what the whole Realm knows, that Targaryens practice that. _Daemon knew what was at stake, and the future of his family was somewhat resting on the mouth of a plain whore.

"_Queen _Marga," She tasted the sound of it. "But of course, you will marry her, right?"

"What? Yeah, of course." He said as he got out of bed, immediately regretting his decision. Naked and shivering out of the sheets, he had never felt so vulnerable. Lilac's light brown eyes bore into his, and she flashed a wicked grin.

"You're not marrying her, are you?" She said defiantly. _How the fuck do whores do that?_ "No maidenhead, and not marrying the brother who took it…does her future lord husband know? Or are you going to take a queen to your bed and your sister in another?"

A blind fury took over Daemon as he whipped his hand in a resounding slap to her face. Lilac gaped at him, but then put an arm over the gash and stood up from the other side of the bed. When he saw Lilac for the first time, she had a homely, almost innocent look upon her. But now, in the darkness with only the torches outside to lighten the room, she gave an almost ferocious look, like a tiger waiting to pounce.

"I'm not asking to be Queen, _Prince _Daemon," She addressed him with mock respect. Unlike Daemon, she did not shiver and stood naked rather confidently. "Nor am I asking to be in your bed in King's Landing, gods know you've got your sister for that—I'll never understand you Dragons and your lust for sisters."

"Then what do you want?" Daemon asked warily.

"For starters, not to be a whore anymore." She said casually. "I want what all the other common girls want—I'll let you guess what that is."

He knew. "Which one?"

"A Stark, an Umber, one of the Manderly twins, any will suffice." She said as though he were offering her a choice of meat for a meal, and he felt the urge to hit her. "The north preferably, but I don't mind a Lannister."

Daemon imagined marrying her to Tybalt Lannister. _I would do it if I were king, _he mused. _But Marga would probably go against it because it was unbecoming for a king. _This girl was pretty, beautiful even, but she would never pass off as a lady even if she tried. He had seen upjumped low-born peasants who managed to marry themselves off to prominent knights and heirs to lesser houses, and he saw how they could never fit in. _And Lilac is a cut-throat whore—she'd never belong._

The glint on the table caught his eye, and he realized another option. The sword was one of the last Valyrian steel swords in Westeros, and it could cut through a person like butter. He could do it, just slice off her head, a stab it through her heart. He'd save her the trouble of bearing with the lord he'd have to give her to.

"Well?" She asked hopefully. "Do we have a deal, m'lord."

_Never. _Daemon thought. _I could do it. She lives because I let her. Without her life, she'll not tell a soul. A dragon does not fear a lesser man, much less a whore. No one will miss her anyway._

Daemon strode to the table to reach for his sword, but before he could let his intentions show, the door slammed open, letting the cold in.

"Prince Daemon!" Marlon ran in the room, his mousy personality gone, replaced by a frantic man wielding a dagger. Whether or not he reacted to him and Lilac standing naked in the chambers, he did not show it nor cared to react. "The wildlings! They're by the wall! It's time."


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

"Is that a giant?" Daemon's eyes widened as the behemoth approached the gate in slow speed.

"Umm, a half-giant probably." One of the black brothers mused solemnly. "Doesn't look as big as Mag's head in the dining hall."

"Probably a bastard." Another one quipped.

Daemon looked at the horde, scattered as they left the forest and were in plain view above the wall. Just below the wall were all of the Targaryens, Starks, and other bannermen, spread out. A large number of brothers were on the wall, the yard, and by the gates, prepared for an attack they could repeat two hundred years ago.

His armor stung with the cold, but it was not as bad under the cloak, and it was half the pain he was feeling knowing that Maegara's secret was in his chambers, inside the whore who tried to blackmail him. He quietly prayed that the wildlings would break through and ravage Castle Black and kill her, but then quickly decided against the prayer, knowing that if they did break through, then he, who would be stationed below, would be dead as well.

He wondered if Maegara thought if he was dead already.

"Prince Daemon," Daemon turned to see Lord Tarly and he followed him down to the elevator, across the yard, and past the gate, where men from the north and the Targaryen men awaited the incoming horde of wildlings.

"Two hundred years and they still haven't learned, have they?" Robert Stark scoffed at his own joke.

"You're so cheery."

"Hundreds of years ago, less than a hundred men defended the wall before the Usurper's Brother came to the Night Watch's aid." Stark said serenely as he eyed the wildlings by the horizon. "And out of that handful, only a few were really skilled at arms. We have more than fifty thousand men, your grace—all of them skilled, all of them filled and well and armored. Why fear, my prince?"

"Daemon," He corrected. "If we die, I might as well have one friend that isn't my sister."

And Daemon meant it. Other than time with Lilac, Robert had been Daemon's friend, and he would be the only thing about the north Daemon would miss when he went back to the warm sun of King's Landing.

Lord Tarly was a plump ball of a man, riding ahead of everyone in a destrier, covered in furs and armor. He stayed in front, raising his sword, and suddenly everyone was quiet.

"This is not the day we die!" He yelled bravely. "The Wall will melt into the Shivering Sea before we let these fucking wildlings pass us."

The rest of the Andals yelled in agreement. _I won't die, _Daemon promised, as though Maegara could hear him. _A dragon does not bow to lesser men—or wildlings._

"Hundreds of years ago, the brothers of the Night Watch destroyed the wildling army and its King-Beyond-The-Wall." Lord Tarly yelled. "Now, we end it once and for all!"

The wildlings charged, and the rest responded by charging back, some on destriers, some on foot. The best Archers began shooting the wildlings at the front of the line, breaking past their thick furs. Daemon trotted towards the battle, Maegara's favor in his chest plate, and aimed the tip of his sword at the nearest wildling.

~000~

"It's over," Robert said quietly, watching the remaining hundred of wildlings retreat to the forest. Blood was beginning to stain the blood he lay on, and Daemon was quick to lead three other men to help him bring Robert back to the castle.

"It's over." Daemon promised. Just a minute ago, he had almost been squished to death by the half-giant, and would have had his skull crushed had it not been for Robert to push him away from the ground. Daemon's destrier was dead, slashed by a wildling who was more determined to win that to survived, and Daemon had begun fighting on foot when the giant set his sights on killing him. Robert saved him, but in the process his lower leg had been squashed. Five other men quickly saw what was happening and put five swords through the half-giant. As soon as the other wildlings saw the giant fall, it was all but over as they began running back.

"Is it done?" Daemon asked. He'd demand they catch the ones running, but the forest was their territory, and he was unsure if their men would fare better there.

"There are survivors, Daemon; of course not."Robert groaned as they began leading his horse back to the castle. "But we'll be ready. The north will never forget the crown's support—your support, most of all, Daemon."

"And the crown will not forget your sacrifice—_I _will never forget. Thank you, Robert."

~000~

As soon as the celebration was over, Daemon made his way to his chambers, ready to continue. He wondered if Lilac felt any fear as the sound of wildlings attacking, and if she would expect him, of all people, to be the one to deal with her. _Time to face it, _Daemon thought, gritting his teeth.

The door was still opened, the room unlit. He found Lilac lying on the bed on her back, a dagger impaled on her heart. The blood soaked most of her dress, and seeped out of her mouth, nose, and the sides of her eyes. _It's over, _Daemon sighed. _The worst part is over now. _

He stepped closer to examine the body and scowled. "Horribly done," He spat as he pulled the dagger out of Lilac's corpse. Its hilt was made of onyx, with large encrusted rubies around it. Taking the edge of her dress, he wiped the blood from the blade and placed it on the table. "Nobody taught that fool not to leave the weapon behind."

It was over now. _I won the north from my father. I will be king. And before the year is over, I will make father let Marga be my queen._


End file.
